


Across the Night

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s02e07 The Portland Trip, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-17
Updated: 2005-02-17
Packaged: 2019-05-15 19:53:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14796875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: The idea for this is there's a look that passes between Sam and C J during this scene in this episode...and this is my 'reason' for it.





	Across the Night

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

Author: Francesca

Ficdom: The West Wing

Title: ‘Across the night’

Genre: CJ Cregg/Sam Seaborn  
Rating: U  
Set: #207 _The Portland Trip_

Spoilers: Only if you’ve never seen this episode.

Disclaimers: I don’t own the characters (I wish) but am just borrowing them for a while. The poems are Robert Frost "Acquainted with the Night", "You Darkness" by Ranier Maria Rilke and the last is W.B Yeats "The Cloths of Heaven".

The idea for this is there’s a look that passes between Sam and C J during this scene in this episode…and this is my ‘reason’ for it. (It’s done from a Sam POV - for some reason it just wrote it’s self this way)

Credits: Elizabeth and Karen for Beta reading and everyone at CJ_Sam_FanFic yahoo group for the feedback - especially Jen, Karen and Armani_Flamingo

_"A_ long flight across the night. You know why late flights are good? Because we cease to be earth bound and burdened with practicality. Ask the impertinent question, talk about the ideas that nobody has thought about yet. Put it another way."  
"Be poets."  
Jed Bartlet  & Sam Seaborn

 I looked at C J, and saw her looking at me, I wonder if she’s remembering. By the soft look around her eyes it may be.

It was maybe four days after the shooting; we’d gone to see Josh in hospital. I’ve lost count of how long we would sit around his bed, me, C J, Toby and Donna - if she wasn’t at the office she was at the hospital. Half of the time Josh didn’t know we were there we just used to sit and watch him breathe.

The nurses had just thrown us out for the night and we were standing in the lobby, Toby was going home and had offered Donna a lift. I was going back to the West Wing, so was C J.

"Do you want to call a cab?" *hey at least I get to sit next to you for a while*

"I’d really like to walk". *I get to spend more time with you, I can live with that*

We walked for a while, not saying much. Sometimes the silence can be enough; you don’t need to fill it. Josh is one of the few people I know I’m comfortable enough to be silent with, so are Toby and C J. I appreciate it.

She doesn’t know why I threw her to the ground, she hasn’t figured it out. I guess I’m lucky she hasn’t had time to think about it because I don’t know what I’d say if she asked me. Maybe I’d tell her the truth, maybe I’d say something flippant and keep hiding. I’m good at that.

As we walk our hands brush together, I can’t let her see how her touch affects me, but it’s still a surprise when she slips her hand in mine as we keep walking. Her hand is warm, her skin is soft and her grip is gentle but there’s strength to it, the same way there’s strength to her.

We walk past the Washington Monument, the silence still companionable. Every so often we look at each other, and smile.

I don’t know if it’s just me but it feels like there’s something special about tonight, something different. I don’t want to speak it might spoil things.

We reach The Ellipse and stop for a moment. It’s one of the few places in Washington where despite the lights you can see stars. And there’s an amazing view of the White House, with the night sky behind. Sometimes we spend so long running around inside it we forget how special it is.

"Sam" she’s looking at me. "What are you thinking right now?" That I love you to distraction, that it’s good to be with you. There’s so many things I could tell you right now. I open my mouth "I can see the Stars". That’s it Seaborn, keep it safe. You’re a coward, you really are.

She looks up, and I can see her watch them, her eyes scanning the sky. She lets go of my hand for a moment and walks away from the lamp glare. She walks with an unconscious grace. Damn I’ve got it bad, but maybe in this half light she can’t tell I’m watching her. Now it feels like there’s something I want to say…..and I can’t complicate things, but how I want to.

> "You darkness, that I come from,  
> I love you more than all the fires  
> That fence in the world,  
> For the fire makes  
> A circle of light for everyone,  
> And then no one outside learns of you.  
> But the darkness pulls in everything:  
> Shapes and fires, animals and myself,  
> How easily it gathers them! -  
> Powers and people -  
> And it is possible a great energy  
> Is moving near me.  
> I have faith in nights."  
> 

I see her turn toward me, "Ranier Maria Rilke?" She sounds surprised.

"Yeh" *eloquent Seaborn, very eloquent*.

She looks towards the White House again and back towards me.  
   


> "I have been one acquainted with the night.  
> I have walked out in rain - and back in rain.  
> I have out walked the furthest city light.  
> I have looked down the saddest city lane.  
> I have passed by the watchman on his beat  
> And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.  
> I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet.  
> When far away an interrupted cry  
> Came over houses from another street,  
> But not to call me back or say good-bye;  
> And further still at an unearthly height,  
> One luminary clock against the sky  
> Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right  
> I have been one acquainted with the night."  
> 

There’s something in her voice as she says it that speaks of too many sleepless nights, sleepless nights spent alone and staring at the ceiling. She’s turned away from me now.

Greatly daring I walk up behind her and put my arms around her waist, I can rest my chin on her shoulder, she’s that tall. She must have heard me moving behind her but she doesn’t say a word, doesn’t protest, after a while she relaxes in my arms. Leaning against me, and it feels so good, I could stand like this all night. It’s hard not to tell her now; if she felt nothing for me would she let me hold her like this? I can smell her perfume, a hit of the soap she uses still on her skin. 

I’m good with words, but now they fail me and we stand in the silence, looking at the White House beneath the stars. 

It’s our mutual buzzing that makes us move, we reach for the pagers clipped to our waists in unison, still leaning together, and I still have one arm around her waist. Its Leo he wants us back for a meeting, like five minutes ago and I find myself wishing Leo McGarry was somewhere a LONG way from pagers, or mobiles. I let her go reluctantly and she takes my hand again as we walk back to the White House. We’re still holding hands when we get to the West Wing, I don’t know if she’s realised. I look at her and she’s watching me too, I can’t read what’s in her eyes, I don’t know what, if anything I’ve given away. Our fingers release slowly, reluctantly as though our hands belong to others. She smiles at me and we walk into Leo’s office, and we never speak of it again. It’s on that long list of things I will speak to C J about one day, when it’s time, when I can find the words…

She looks at me and I know, I know she remembers and it gives me hope.  
  

The President gestures in the direction of the cabin window "Mao took a lot of long plane flights, Toby. Look out your window. Is there anything more romantic than that?"

C J turns from me slowly to look at him "And that's why we left at 9:05?" 

"No, we left at 9:05 because they thought my budget meeting might run over. But wouldn't that have been great if that was the reason?"

I look at him too "Yes" I say slowly.

She slowly unfolds herself and goes to answer the question that brought her back here with us. I watch her leave and turn to see the President watching me, he sees more than he lets on and I wonder what he sees now…

"Poets’ Sam" is all he says.   

I can’t help it, I look at C J’s retreating figure, at her willowy elegance, at all the things I want and can never have and I find words, they aren’t mine but they say everything I never can.  
   


>   
> Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,  
> Enwrought with golden and silver light,  
> The blue and the dim and the dark cloths  
> Of night and light and the half light,  
> I would spread the cloths under your feet:  
> But I, being poor, have only my dreams;  
> I have spread my dreams under your feet;  
> Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.  
> 

I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up at the wise eyes of Jed Bartlett and there’s nothing said, we just watch C J until she turns the corner out of sight. 


End file.
